


The Healing

by LittleSpacePrince



Series: Tale Teller's Daily Writing Challenge [27]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Tony, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Omega Bruce, Omega Bruce Banner, Omega Verse, Sad with a Happy Ending, this is us au?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: Prompt:Perspective is everything. Write a story about your character, but through the eyes and perspective of someone else.In which healing begins.





	The Healing

The Healing

_Slowly the water ebbed away,_  
_The blackness mellowed to a shade of grey,_  
_Time as the healer showed the way,_  
_Helping me to cope day by day,_  
_Fear subsiding, confidence reigns,_  
_Ready to face the world again_

 

Tony had been by Bruce Banner’s side for years now. There were things that he would never know and never understand, fear and memories that Bruce didn’t like to discuss. Tony would never know the way he’d felt at the first sign of the Hulk. He would never know the pain that came in the beast’s overtaking as intimately as Bruce did. He would never know the way it felt to be torn apart and put back together again. He would never know the guilt that Bruce suffered. He would never know what it was like to have three children growing within him, only to have one ripped away. There was suffering that Tony would never know like Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to know, no matter how badly he wanted to take it away. 

But he could watch. He could learn. And that was exactly what he had been doing ever since the first day they’d met. Watching. Learning. Observing. Memorizing.

In the beginning, Bruce rarely made eye contact without making a point about it. Subtle signs of mild autism, Tony figured, and later confirmed. His eyes were shielded, like he’d made a point to barricade the windows of the soul, refusing to let anyone peer inside. After some time, though, the barriers began to come down, and Tony could see him for what he actually was.

Warm, and gentle, and brilliant, and kind. Tony had watched as these traits only grew over time, blossoming after mating, flourishing throughout his pregnancy. He kept all of the things that made him his own, of course, all of his subtle snark and sass, but he’d softened around the edges as he prepared to enter fatherhood. 

And now that he had entered it… 

There was guilt, and anger, and pain, and sorrow, and grief. He had been clinging to something that wasn’t there anymore, holding so tightly to a child that had hardly gotten a chance to so much as live. The pain of it had nearly torn Bruce in two, bringing him to his knees. There had been sobbing, followed by silence. There had been pain, and heartache, and sorrow unlike anything either of them had ever known. For a moment, Tony had wondered if either of them would ever recover. 

And then, it all changed at the sight of him. The abandoned baby boy, the baby boy that shared his birthday, the baby boy destined to be brought home with them. 

Bruce’s features came alight at the sight of him. Subtle light washing upon him, like the first cracks of dawn, brows furrowing and eyes slowly coming to life again. Tony hadn't seen that look since the first time that the alpha had expressed an arousal at his lactation, and before that his expressed arousal at his gravid form, and before that the first excited kisses at the fact that they were going to be having triplets. It wasn't a rare sight, really, joyous confusion, but there was something softer in him this time. Something almost bittersweet. 

“What's his name?” Bruce murmured. 

“I was thinking Aidan.” Tony said, curling his arms around his waist. “He was meant for us, Bruce. He's our number three. I don't believe in god, I don't believe in miracles, but I believe in this, and I believe in him, and I believe in us, and goddammit, he was made for us.” 

Bruce’s brows furrowed, turning toward him. “It’s going to be a lot. After everything that’s happened… After everything that’s still happening… It’s gonna be complicated. They’re gonna know that he’s adopted, and then there’s the media frenzy, and… I mean, three kids… That’s a lot of work.” He replied, and Tony could remember the first time he’d said those words. The night after the first ultrasound, just before the throes of passion, just before Tony had bent him over and plowed him into the bed. It had been full of excited worry, ecstatic concern, but not grief, not like this. But there was light in his eyes, and there was hope for him yet. 

“We were going to handle it anyways. Bruce… When we first got here, I made you a promise. I made everyone in this damn hospital a promise. I swore that I was not leaving without three pups and a healthy omega. And babe… It’s a promise that I intend to keep. We’ve got three strollers, three cribs… This is our big three. Little man over there is going to be number three. I know that it hurts, I know that it’s a lot… But he was made for us, Bruce. We were made for him. We were made for this.” 

He could feel Bruce still for a moment, pondering it over, and for a moment, Tony wondered if it was nothing more than a useless effort, a futile attempt at something bigger than either one of them. And then, something glorious happened. 

He nodded. 

 

\----

 

“C’mon, Aidan…” Tony could hear him begging, listening from behind the other side of the wall. He peered around to find a crying baby and an exasperated Bruce, both yet to notice him. He had gone to socialize, or make some attempt, at least, though socialization was more difficult to maintain these days. 

They'd gone home four days earlier, taking home exactly what Tony had vowed they would take home. Three babies and a healthy omega. Steve was pretty much constantly cooing over Axel and Aileen, the rest about sick of crying newborns at all hours of the day. Bruce was trying his best, but there was struggle. A week and a half had passed since the birth, five days since the death, four days since the return to their own four walls. Still, the grief had not passed. It wasn't quite yet joyous, wasn't quite yet sleepy and exhausted and absolutely wonderful. Bruce still harbored guilt, and depression, and pain, and it showed. Of course he did, the death of a child wasn't something one recovered from quite so easily, quite so quickly. It took time. It took healing. 

“Don’t cry, please… Please, don't cry, because if you cry I'm gonna cry, and if I cry we’ll both be useless.” Bruce begged, bouncing the child in his arms in futile attempts to soothe the wailing child. Still, he cried, and he cried, like he always did, rarely soothed by much of anything. _“Please,_ Aidan.” 

Aidan was the only one that Bruce refused to let out of his sight. Tony couldn't quite describe the look on his face whenever Bruce was with him. Solemn, like he was seeing their dead child within the little boy. It was somewhere between pain and love, between torment and adoration. There was so much heartache, and Tony found himself helpless to fix it. 

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I'm not… You're not… _I’m so sorry.”_ Tony could hear Bruce’s tears thick in his voice as he stumbled over his words. “You're not Aidan. We lost Aidan, and I can't keep pretending like you're him. I don't know you, baby, I’m sorry. I don’t know you. I don’t know you like I know Aileen, or Axel, or like I knew Aidan. I didn't carry you inside of me.” 

Tony’s face fell from where he stood, but he didn't speak a word. Regret instantly bubbled up within him, knowing that he'd made a mistake. Surely, it was a mistake. To bring home a third baby that didn't belong to them in an attempt to fill the hole, disregarding the consequences of such actions, too blinded by his own grief to care about how Bruce would feel. All that he had known was that they were supposed to have three babies, and one sat there waiting to be taken. He hadn't considered the emotional toll that it might take on the man who had carried and birthed the other two. 

And then Bruce began to speak again. Softly, just barely loud enough to be heard. Tony’s ears perked up, stepping just half an inch forward, desperate to cling to every word that he spoke. It felt like eavesdropping, like he was spying on something that he wasn’t meant to hear, but sometimes his own curiosity got the better of him. 

“I want to know you, though. You're still mine. It's just… it's gonna take some time. But you’re not… You’re not him. You aren’t the baby that I carried inside of me, you aren’t... You’re not him, we lost him. You’re you, little man.” Bruce murmured, watching as the omega began to rock him back and forth, the cries of their son softening to a sort of whimper. “You’re my son. I didn’t carry you, you’re not my blood, you never will be. But you’re still mine. You’re still my son. And I’m going to love you with all that’s in me. I promise.” 

Tears and genuine smiles came flooding over him as Tony took a step forward, opting to come join his mate. The footsteps were enough to alert Bruce of his presence as the alpha took his place beside the two of them. Tony reached over, resting a hand over his knees and giving it a small squeeze in some attempt at comfort. Bruce gave a small smile as the baby in his arms quieted with the slight rocking of his father. 

“I assume you overheard that?” Bruce said with a small sigh, almost appearing embarrassed that he’d been caught in the middle of such intimate conversations with a newborn. 

“I heard.” Tony replied with a small nod.

“We can’t keep pretending that he’s Aidan. He’s not. I watched my baby die, I watched as he stopped breathing. I can’t just… I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen.” His eyes were full of tears as he spoke, holding tightly to the child in his arms, as if trying to cling to something, to hold to something that had some chance at filling the hole that had been left in him. 

“I know.” Tony murmured. 

There was a certain silence that settled just before confession, settling over them until Tony drew in a breath, searching for the words to say. He had gone so long hiding pain behind humor, pain behind sarcasm and quippy one-liners, and sometimes he wondered if there was anything genuine left in him. But dammit, he would still try. 

“They let me see him. Before the seizure, before you woke up. They came back, told me that Aileen and Axel were healthy, but Aidan was sick. They weren’t worried, I don’t think. They seemed to think that he would just need some time to catch up, that he’d make it alright. They took me back to see him, let me sit by him, let me reach through the little hole and touch his fingers. He was… Squirmy, I think. Hard to see through all of those wires, but he was moving, a lot. I… I reached through, I held his hand. He held my thumb for awhile, too.” Tony confessed, feeling the pain ringing in his chest. 

He gulped down hard, avoiding Bruce’s eyes as he struggled to recompose himself. He clenched his eyes shut, fingernails pressing hard into his palms as he bit back tears, holding tightly to his breath. 

“He was holding my thumb when he started seizing.” 

“Tony…” Bruce whispered. 

“I felt him go. I should’ve reacted faster, maybe they could’ve saved him then. But I froze. I froze, Bruce. And I guess I just… I wanted to bring this little guy home, wanted to… I wanted to pretend that he was Aidan, so maybe I didn’t have to deal with the guilt.” 

Tony watched as Bruce rose to his feet, walking toward the crib and placing the infant down into it before turning back. He watched as Bruce knelt down next to him before throwing his arms tightly around the alpha’s shoulders, clinging tight as the tears began to flow freely. It seemed to be some sort of breaking point, on their knees, clinging tightly to each other. A point of mourning, a point of grief, a point of growing, a point of healing. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty anymore.” Bruce murmured, pressing his lips against Tony’s ear, down the side of his neck, offering some attempt at comfort. “It isn’t your fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. But we have to love this baby for who he is, not for who we lost.” 

Tony looked up, and offered a small smile and a nod. 

“We’re gonna be alright.” Tony said, and he meant every word of it as he brushed back a stray curl from Bruce’s face. 

“Yeah… Yeah, we are.” Bruce replied in turn, meeting his eyes as he curled his fingers tight around Tony’s, holding him close. It was quiet. It was bittersweet. But it was home. 

It was quiet, and it was slow, and there was peace for the first time since it had happened. Bruce leaned forward, claiming his lips, pulling him close. It was the first time he’d been kissed like this since his birthday, since the babies had been born. There had been small kisses, chaste against foreheads beaded with sweat, but never anything like this. Never anything deep, or charged with anything anywhere close to sexual tension. But Bruce pulled him close, held him tight, clothes gripped tight between clenched fists. 

He knew that there was nowhere that this could go, not so soon after giving birth, but Tony decided that there was no harm in inching closer, teasing at the idea until Bruce was cleared for sex. He held him tight, slow kisses deepening as the heat built up between them, tugging Bruce’s shirt over top of his head, tossing it into the corner as he pressed kisses down his neck, over his chest. His body hadn’t had time to readjust, still swollen in odd places, stitches still prominent across his abdomen. But even still, even still, he was beautiful. 

“Want you, Tony.” Bruce pleaded, practically crawling into the alpha’s lap, despite the trauma he’d been through, despite knowing full well that sex and knotting wasn’t a good idea yet. 

“Now?” As if it needed confirmation. Bruce had made his intentions pretty clear. 

“I’m yours. I’m still yours. I want you.” He murmured. 

“I know.” Tony said, lips pressed against his neck as he reached between them, unfastening the knot in his sweatpants and tugging them down slightly, just ever so slightly. Just enough to free his cock, hardening in the palm of his hand as he stroked him slowly. His own pleasure was negligible for the time being. He much preferred to watch as he brought his omega to begging, at least for that moment. He much preferred to watch his features contort in the throes of his pleasure, much preferred to watch him squirm and plead until finally being offered his relief. 

Tony felt himself hardening between his legs, but ignored it, stroking him slowly, savoring each gasp and moan that escaped from Bruce’s lips. Savoring each touch, each throb, each whimper. For the first time since he’d woken up, he was back to his old self. Content, horny, and noisy as hell. 

“This is so messed up.” Bruce whispered with a small chuckle before giving a sharp gasp, cock twitching hard in the alpha’s hand as he swept a thumb over the head. “Our baby is right over there, and you’re beating me off.” 

“How many more opportunities are we going to get to do this? We’re parents now, we’ve gotta take every chance we can get.” Tony teased as Bruce let out a low moan, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “You know what else is going to have to change?” 

“What?” Bruce inquired, struggling to keep anything close to composure as he bucked hard into Tony’s hand. 

“You’re gonna have to stop being such a noisy little cockslut, Banner. There are children around, it’ll be wrong to let them hear you begging for my knot.” He whispered, voice low, breath hot against his ear. 

“Piss off.” Bruce shot with a small laugh, quickly returning to a moan, dark curls thrown back as he inched closer to his climax, pushed closer and closer to the edge as Tony redoubled his efforts, stroking him faster, with more purpose, until he came hot and hard between them. Semen sprayed hot and sticky between them, all over Tony’s hand as he continued to stroke him through his orgasm, savoring the way that he looked, savoring the way he sounded. Savoring the moment they came together again. Savoring the moment that they found their way to healing. 

And then came quiet. Silence as Bruce leaned against Tony’s chest, the alpha holding tight to him, fingers brushing through dark curls as they sat in the silence, sleepy in the afterglow. It was easy, and it was quiet, and it was exactly how things were meant to be. 

The quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of the whimpering wails of the baby in the crib. A quiet huff of laughter was shared between them as the moment came to an end, both of them figuring that this was life from now on. Quiet moments and sex to be interrupted by the sound of crying children, demanding their attention at all hours of the day. But it was precisely what they’d signed up for, and Tony didn’t regret a single second of it. 

Suddenly, Tony felt something wet seep through his rumpled clothes and across his chest. Slowly, he pulled him away, unsure of what the hell was happening but having his suspicions as he met Bruce’s eyes, a sense of _knowing_ shared between them, even before they glanced down in unison.

“I’m lactating.” Bruce breathed. 

“You are.” Tony said, blinking in astonishment. 

A smile spread wide across his lips as the omega rose to his feet, not wasting a single second to pull his baby into his arms, practically darting across the room to tend to the crying child. Tony laughed, watching as Bruce assumed a place that seemed natural for him. The scientist, the genius, the beast, the Avenger, assuming a role that seemed to fit him beautifully. It was hardly his only role, never the only place where he belonged, but it suited him. Holding his child tightly in his arms, rocking lightly as he nursed him, a small, contented smile etched across his lips.

There was a long way until they were whole again, after all that they had lost. But in that moment, Tony knew that they were well on their way.


End file.
